Our Darkest Hours
by Eden Lies
Summary: Aaron wishes that he had been born knowing the difference between right and wrong. He wishes that he had been quicker, had been stronger, had been able to save his family. He wishes that he had never become a victim of the Reaper. He wishes for too much, really. Currently gen, but will include Hotch/Reid overtones in the future.


Hello, everyone! It's been quite a long time, hasn't it? I'd sort of lost the motivation and/or inspiration for writing in my previous fandom (Kuroshitsuji), but ever since I started watching Criminal Minds and got past season 5, I've been totally itching to write a Hotch-centric fic. So, I suppose, without further ado, here it is! I have the whole thing done already, and am just uploading it in parts because I find it easier.

Hotch is easily one of my favorite characters in the show (tied with Reid and Gideon), and I always found it a bit disappointing that the writers didn't address the aftermath of 5x01 "Nameless, Faceless" and 5x09 "100" too much once we got past the first half of season 5. I'd imagine Hotch as being extremely fragile and traumatized due to these events, and in addition to his implied childhood abuse (See season 1's episode "Natural Born Killer" for the reference), I find it very possible that Hotch's grief would tip the scales into becoming something much worse. I know that abuse does not always correlate and/or lead to psychopathy or future internal troubles, but just work with me here.

Warnings: A lot of serious and somewhat dark topics (well, it IS a Criminal Minds fanfic, 'cmon!), including and not limited to self-harm, suicide, psychopathy, violence, drug use and addiction, implied rape, and so on. Plenty of Hotch angst to the point of possible OOC-ness, but hey! I figured Reid would really appreciate a break from it, LOL.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or it's characters. I am also no professional psychologist, so please excuse anything that may seem impossible/poorly explained/not likely. :P

* * *

**Our Darkest Hours**

by Eden Lies

* * *

**_Chapter I: Victimization_**

* * *

_"It has been said that time heals all wounds, but I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting it's sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone." ~Rose Kennedy_

* * *

He thinks he should have been born knowing the difference between right and wrong.

After all, he had known what his father was. Wrong. Violent. His hero. An abuser. A lawyer. His daddy.

But his father always been _all wrong_. Gentle as he could be, cruel as he was, there had always been something very wrong with him.

And Aaron wonders now, as he's being forcibly pulled off of Foyet's bloody corpse, if he had also been _all wrong_ _(bad bad bad_) from the start.

He liked it. The feel of Foyet's blood running through his fingers, hot and sticky and thick. The feel of domination, of winning. Of pinning another man down and beating him to death and even beyond that. He wanted to dig his nails into the dead man's skin, eviscerate the body-

And he's scared. So, _so _scared.

He knows better than to think that all of his enjoyment and pleasure had arisen as a result of his want to avenge Haley's death. Part of that pleasure had been all his own.

The bloodlust had been real.

But he isn't like his father, Aaron tells himself.

He can't be. He _isn't_.

* * *

When everyone stares at him in the office, whispers behind his back, and offers him condolences, Aaron wishes for a moment that no one would notice him walk into his office, unlock the safety on his gun, and put a bullet through his own skull.

* * *

Now that he thinks about it, there had always been _signs_. A certain lack of care for animals (_sorry Sean, I forgot to feed your goldfish while you were gone, and I think it's dead_), a certain tendency towards violence (_Dowd gave you the perfect opportunity to beat up Reid, pretty little Reid_), and a bloodthirsty, single-minded enjoyment of making people squirm (_Is that why you liked being a prosecutor?_).

And sure, he can explain everything away, call things one-time incidents, and maybe even choose to ignore them, but that doesn't change the fact that he _killed _a man and liked it, that he is irredeemably responsible for Haley's death. It's definitely his fault: he could have driven faster, could have left the Federal Marshal's side sooner, could have predicted Foyet's steps, could have done anything, really.

* * *

Aaron has been extra careful around Jack lately. He makes sure to seem cheery, to play with his son more often than he normally would have the time to, and to be especially attentive to any sort of problems Jack might be facing. He needs to encourage his son to move past Haley's death. And even if it takes pretending to be happy and alright, and eats away at his patience thread by thread, he knows that he must do it. He must do all that he can to keep Jack safe.

He can't hurt his son. He can't. Jack needs him. He would never hurt his own son. He knows what happens to little kids if their fathers hurt them.

When Jack asks for the fourth time when 'mommy' is going to come back home, Aaron plasters a patient, gentle smile on his face and says,

"She'll be gone for a long time, Jack. But daddy will take care of you. I promise."

"Okay," Jack says, and then-

"Promise me you'll never leave, daddy?"

Aaron feels like something just socked him in the stomach.

He wants to say _yes, you can trust me to keep you safe_, but inside, he is wavering.

He hates himself for even considering-

He wants to hurt himself so very badly, if only to protect others.

Jack is asleep in his lap by the time Aaron is done mentally ripping himself apart.

* * *

Strauss's evaluations go by, just as planned. Everyone sticks up for him, just as he knew they would. Strauss tries to pull the 'premeditation' and the 'unstable' card on him, but he is prepared for it and fights against her tooth and nail, silently. Strauss asks him what he believes that Foyet would have done had he not been killed, and Hotch rightfully states that his son would have been Foyet's next target. She is satisfied by that answer, and even apparently has a change of heart on the issue. Strauss gives him her condolences, and offers help, should he ever need it. He smiles and politely thanks her, but inside, he wonders why she didn't ask him the most simple, most important, and most obvious question:

'Why the overkill?'

* * *

He dreams of George Foyet sometimes.

_"Now, I understand that profilers think that stabbing is a substitution for the act of sex. That if somebody's impotent, they'll use a knife…"_

And in his dreams, he remembers. Remembers the knife sliding in, out, in, out. Remembers Foyet's heavy, uneven breath gusting across his neck, the knife being painted in a caress along his jawline. Remembers Foyet's shirtless, scarred torso. Remembers hips rutting against his, hard and hot and unrelenting.

And God help him, he'd gotten hard. Liked it. Had he always been so depraved that the touches of a madman would so easily excite him?

_LETmegohelpIdon'twant-no, please!- Don't-someoneSAVEme!_

* * *

Aaron Hotchner hates dreaming.

* * *

_End Part I._

* * *

There you go, everyone! That would be part 1 to what I'm now calling my angsty!Hotch fic. I've got the rest of this written out on paper, so it won't be too long until I post another part. How was it? Please drop me a review and let me know :).

Also, quick note: does anyone have a suggestion for a better title? I'm not too fond of the current one.


End file.
